Home,and Other Unstable Matters
by Let me rule
Summary: At 15,Sam's hurt on a hunt for the first time,Dean's trying not to take it personally that John's disappeared on them,and Bobby's pissed. TW:language
1. Home

_Home is wherever I'm with you_

**At 15, Sam is hurt on a hunt for the first time,Dean's trying not to take it personally that John's disappeared on them again,and Bobby's pissed.**

Sammy's been going through a growth spurt.

That seems like a mild way to put it, honestly. Hell, this time last year the kid was 5'3,110 lbs. He's at least 6' now.

At least.

He's sprawled out on the hospital bed, and his legs are nearly hanging off the bed. He's not awake yet. Apparently it's gonna take a while.

Fuck.

Dad left. He's gone. The hunt, he growled at me,the hunt. Fuck you,Dean, fuck Sam,fuck everything. The hunt comes first. Who cares if your little brother got thrown into a wall?

Sam managed to break his collarbone and crack his skull open at the same time. At first they suspected abuse, but mugging pretty much covers every injury.

"Mr Smith?" It takes a second for me to realize. A nurse is standing at the end of Sam's bed, holding a folder.

"Mmh?"

" I'm afraid your brother will be here for a few days at the least. We're not certain,but's it's likely he has a severe concussion. Are you sure you don't want to contact-"

"No." It comes out sharp. "No, I'm a legal adult, I'm my brother's guardian."

Lies. The nurse purses her lips but doesn't comment. She turns and leaves.

It takes hours for Sam to wake up. I think it's around 11. He drags his eyes half-open and groans. He looks dazed, lazily looking around the room.

"D?" It's quiet and seems slurred. God. I'm such a wuss. I sit on his bed and swipe my eyes.

"Hey,I'm here,Sammy. After a few minutes, I get a complete sentence.

" What..happened. " his eyes close again. Stay awake. I grab one of his hands and squeeze it hard. Maybe he'll wake up out of sheer embarrassment.

"You got jumped dude,that's the story. Dunno how you managed to break your collarbone and your skull,but you're talented."

Not even a smile. He's asleep again.

...

"Hey,Bobby."

"How you doin',boy? Aren't you on a hunt down in Nebraska?"

"Uh, yeah. No. Dad is. Not us."

Silence.

"Sam got hurt,Bobby."

There's muffled cursing.

"Shit. Where are you? I'm coming." How is it that a man he met when he was 5 is more protective of him than his father?

"No,no he's gonna be fine. We're getting discharged tomorrow. But the kid's pretty banged up. Can we chill for a couple days? Dad took the car,so-"

"John's still on the hunt?"

"Yeah. He,uh,said he'd be back when he finished."

"Sonuvabitch. Get your asses down here when he's ready. I'm gonna have a chat with your daddy."

...

"Level three concussion." I crumple up the napkin from the lunch Sam hasn't eaten and throw it. It lands next to his IVs and he scowls.

"I'm pretty sure that just medical speak for,my heads hurts like hell." Sam's got bandages everwhere, his arm's immobilized,there's stitches that run up his forehead and disappear beneath a thick mop. But he's awake. Running his mouth. Being a little bitch.

The way it's supposed to be.

"Don't swear,Sasquatch, it's rude. Who raised you,anyway?" Sam cracks a grin,even though it looks like it hurts.

" A foul mouthed hunter." Dad doesn't swear. I grin back. Sam's smile fades,though. He looks down and starts to pick at the sheets.

"Where is he?"

"Finishing the hunt." Sam's already bitter about Dad, I try to keep the resentment out of my voice. It doesn't work.

"Typical." His voice hardens. I sit up ,take my feet off his bed.

"Hey,listen man. We're heading to Bobby's tonight. Gonna rest a couple days. You can read or do whatever it is nerds do in their spare time."

He pulls a bitch face. I reach for his pudding,but he grabs it and inhales it in seconds, purely out of spite.

"Bitch!"

"Jerk." His mouth is still full.

...

He's napping now. I flip the phone up and down. Should I call him him? Sammy's doing fine,like Dad predicted he would but fuck if that excuses him. I start to dial a number, and then Sam sits straight up in bed. There's a terrifying noise coming from his throat,something like choking and gagging and confusion. I think the phone's on the ground. I grab his shoulders.

"Sam!You OK? Sam?" And then he pukes. It's red and all over me and him and the bed. There's a nurse rushing in, but that doesn't stop Sam from rolling his eyes back and collapsing back unto the bed.

A/N-tbc


	2. Aftershocks

I can feel the seconds as they fly past me,tearing at me. Sam's body is quaking, there's red erupting on bandages. Someone rips my hands from his shoulders and pushes me from the fly in, the blinds on his windows close, and the door slams shut. I roar,bang on the wall. There's muffled speak from inside the room, and I can see the outline of figures crowding the bed.

"FUCK." It's a pediatric ward. Dirty looks all around. _Screw you,too._ Pacing's not the best alternative to screaming until I'm hoarse, but it has to do. I walk up and down the length of his room,worrying my cell phone. A man, a doctor,comes out from Sam's room, and grabs my shoulder. I jerk away, and he puts his hands up in defense.

" Sorry," Though he doesn't seem so apologetic. " Please,come with me." He leads me to a break room and takes a sip of a cup of coffee.

" Has your brother ever had a seizure before?" He asks.

No. Can I see him? " If Sammy had had a seizure before, I'd have known. Right? He would have told me. But the doctor ignores me.

"Obviously we can't release your brother now. Even if this was his first, he had a Grand Mal seizure."

"Is that bad?"God, I should call Bobby. Dad?

"Yes, even by itself."

"Well, this is fantastic." I sit down heavily in chair. Sam had a seizure. Sam got hurt on a hunt with me and had a seizure. The doctor looks pointedly at me, and I realize too late I'm still covered with bloody vomit,shit.

"Can I see him?" I don't even bother getting up.

"He's still unconscious. We're just changing his sheets and robes and fixing the stitches that were ripped up. He's going to be nauseous when he wakes up, so I suggest you clean up,first."

...

Hospital showers never have the right water pressure. Even when you're a patient,it's either as weak as a drizzle or feels like a hurricane. I scrub with the soap,watching as the blood disappears down the drain in red swirls. When it turns cold, I put on the loose scrubs they gave me when I said I had no clothes. I pad back down the pediatric hallway. The nurse gives me a look and I resist the urge to put up my finger. Sam's door is open.

They changed his gown and sheets,and fresh bandages wrap his forehead. He cracks his eyes open when I sit next to him,and closes them again.

"Nice clothes." He croaks. I pick at the loose blue material.

"Got 'em 'cause of you. How you feeling?"

He shrugs one uninjured shoulder and opens his eyes again.

"Don't really remember anything. Woke up when they were redoing the stitches. Seizure?" Sam looks so scared that it's easy to remember,despite his massiveness,that he's barely 15.

"Yeah,man. When you do something,you do it all the way. You had a grand mal." His face whitens. Of course he'd know what a grand mal is.

"You're fine now."

"Fine." Sam echoes. He's silent for a minute,and looks dead tired. I figure he's probably going to sleep,but he speaks up.

"Why'd you change?" I laugh,though it's really not funny at all.

"Dude,you puked all over me beforehand."

He looks mortified,averting his eyes.

"Oh please,it's not the first time."

"That's not better,Dean."

"Whatever, bitch." He smiles a bit.

"Jerk!"

He falls asleep soon after,and I'm relieved. He kept stalling,firing his eyes open,like he's scared he'll have another seizure in his sleep. If he does...I'm ready.

They added anti-seizure medication to his growing list of drugs. They left the list next to his bed,and I read it while he sleeps. Clearly,even if they don't know why he had it,there's no point in allowing him to keep having them. The room grows dark. A nurse drops my clean clothes back in when she checks Sam's vitals,but I don't really want to leave him.

Dad. Should I call him? Would he care? We haven't talked since he left last week. He swept out of Sam's room when he was still unconscious, sweeping away concerns about his sons and mumbling about the hunt. It was a damn salt and burn. There were other hunters he could have contacted. Why didn't he? Why did he abandon us?

God.

Somehow,it's morning,and a nurse is checking Sam's vitals. He's still sleeping, so I force myself to roll out of bed and wash my face. Sammy's seizure earned himself at least a couple more weeks in the hospital,I should really go buy some clothes or something. As I'm drying my face with a rough towel, my phone vibrates against my leg.

"Hello?"

"Dean,how's the kid?"

"Hey,Bobby. Uh,not good." I cross the room and sit back on the unmade cot, puling my boots on.

"Not good? Dean, you said you'd be out today."

"That's what we thought. But Sam, he was sleeping last night,then he woke up,puked red all over himself,and had a seizure." There's silence.

"Fucking hell. I'm coming."

"No,Bobby, wait-" But all I get is a dialtone. I snap the phone shut and sigh. It's not a terrible thing that he's coming, really.I just don't think Dad would approve.

Sam spends the day sleeping. When he's awake, he's woozy and emotional. I don't even bother telling him that Bobby's coming. I spend the day staring at my phone. Not one call. Not a text,email,smoke signal,whatever. It's like Dad's forgotten he ever had sons.

Some doctors come in round 4,attach monitors to Sam's forehead. Apparently it'll help be on the lookout for another seizure. He wakes up at six,and he's more alert than ever.

" Dean."

"Hey, how you feelin?"

"Not good." Sam starts to blink rapidly and I can feel my heart sinking. I get up from my chair and sit on the edge of Sam's bed.

"What's wrong,man?" Sam looks away. I get the feeling he's not quite as alert as I thought.

"Where's dad?" He asks in a tiny voice. I rub the back of my head._Fuck you,Dad._

"Uh, he's not here,Sammy." Sam looks at me with a hurt expression.

"Why isn't he here?"

"He had to finish the hunt." We've been over this before.

"The hunt? But...I'm in the hospital?"

"I know."

There's tears pooling on his face. Oh god,these drugs are doing awful things to him.

"He hates us,he has to." Sam's voice cracks and in an instant he's only ten,tiny and scared.

"No, he's,"I need to say something -anything. " He's just, he's-"

"He's a bastard,and he hates me,Dean,he hates 's why he's not here." His face is a violent red,he sobs into his hands.

"Fuck,Sam,calm down." There's a tightness in my chest, getting worse as Sam rocks back and forth. I grab his hands and pull them from his face. Stop,is all I can think, stop doing this to me. His eyes are bloodshot and the bruises on his cheek stand out from his pale skin. He won't look at me, so I force his chin up gently,leaving my hands on his feverish cheeks.

"If Dad wants to be a bastard and leave us in some skank-ass hospital while he goes and finishes a hunt, let 'em. Fuck that, we don't need him.I'm not going to leave you. We're gonna go to Bobby's,hang around and bother him for a few weeks. And if Dad decides to show up,we'll...well,we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. OK?"

"OK."

He buries his face in my shoulder and as I wrap my arms around him, I wonder if I keep repeating that I don't care, I'll make myself believe,too.


	3. Reprieve

**I am honestly so sorry this too so long. I don't even have an excuse. It's just...here now? **

* * *

Sam doesn't wake up the next morning.

Well, that's an exaggeration. He just keeps sleeping. At 11:30, four hours past when he'd usually be up, a nurse who comes in to check his vitals laughs at my concern.

"Honey, he's just had a seizure. His body needs as much sleep as he can get. I'd bet you he's gonna be out for a few hours more. Why don't you go get yourself presentable?" She motions towards the bathroom door, then leaves.

"Presentable?" I mutter to my unconscious brother. "The hell she mean by that? I'm _always _presentable."

I roll off of the chair I've been lounging on and check my reflection in the mirror.

Oh.

I have four-day old stubble. Dark circles under my eyes. Hair sticking up in all directions.

I rub my jaw, where patchy hair's poking through. Definitely need to find a razor somewhere.

"Boy, you ever gonna stop preenin'?"

Over my shoulder,I see a ragged old man wearing a torn baseball cap. _Oh, thank god. _

"Bobby!"

Bobby smiles as I turn and hug him.

"How you doin', Dean?"

"Fine, I'm fine."

He scoffs.

"You don't look it, son. You gotten any sleep at all?"

I laugh uneasily and dodge the question.

"Less than this one's been getting." I nod towards the motionless lump on the bed. I walk over and feel Sam's forehead. "Kid's been sleepin' all day. Getting lazy, huh, squirt?"

Sam's only response is to snore a bit.

"How is he?" Bobby's voice drops to a hushed tone as he joins me at the bed.

I shrug.

"Don't know. Seems like no one really knows what's wrong. We came in because he broke his collarbone and got a concussion." I point at the bandages wrapped around his forehead. "But he got worse. Had a huge seizure."

"Uh huh." Bobby squints the readings on Sam's chart. "I'll go talk to his doctors. But, uh, one thing. Has your Daddy called?"

I'm silent. My stomach's twisting into knots.

Bobby interprets the silence correctly.

"That man's gonna get what's comin' to him." He says, taking out his phone. Bobby stalks out of the room, dialing a number I'm sure I know by heart.

* * *

Nurses were right. Sam doesn't wake up until late afternoon. I don't mind. Daytime TV's pretty awful, but, honestly, some of the Spanish soaps are kinda compelling.

"Dean."

I jump and quickly switch of the TV, looking wildly around the room. No one there but me and Sam.

I get up and go to the bedside.

"Hey dude." I readjust one of the nodes on his forehead. It feels a bit warm to me. I'll mention it to a nurse later.

Sam's looking lazily at me, not quite awake.

"How are you feeling?" I ask him.

"Like shit." He says slowly.

I laugh mirthlessly. "At least you're honest "

It's quiet for a bit. Sam drifts in and out.

"Guess who's here?" I break the silence a few minutes later.

Sam drags his eyes open and makes an anxious face.

"Dad?" He asks, almost inaudible.

"Uh, no. Bobby."

"Good." Sam even smiles a bit before falling asleep again.

* * *

"Docs think the seizure was a result of the head trauma." Bobby says thickly, biting into a sub. I pull mine apart and pick out the olives. First food I've eaten in three days.

"Makes sense. He's had like four concussions this year alone."

"All from hunting?"

" Most of 'em. One was from soccer." Sam did a brief stint when we were holed up in new jersey.

"Soccer?" Bobby grins. "Sam's playing soccer?"

"Was." I correct. "Dad pulled him off the team after he got hurt. Said he couldn't afford to have injuries while we were hunting."

That was the biggest argument that Sam and Dad have had in a few years.

Bobby raises an eyebrow.

"But he has no problem with this?" He sweeps a hand around the hospital room.

"Wouldn't know, would I? He won't pick up the damn phone." I say. It comes out sharp and bitter. I put down the sandwich,appetite lost.

"Don't you worry about that, boy." Bobby says. "I'll take care of your Daddy. You just worry about your brother."

* * *

It's late. Bobby's gone to check into a motel. A night nurse comes in while I'm dressing after a shower. I quickly pull on a t-shirt as she rearranges a few monitors. Some scars on me are a bit too hard to explain.

"He feels warm to me " I tell him, coming up to my brother's side. Sam's still pale, hair sweaty. He's asleep yet again.

"Really?" The nurse feels Sam's forehead, then gets a thermometer. "You're right," He says,reading the thermometer. He looks worried. "This doesn't make sense."

"_What?" _ I can physically feel the anxiety wash over me.

"He's got a fever. That wasn't just from trauma." The nurse turns to look at me. "I need to get his doctor. Something else is going on."


End file.
